Page 170 - The Midnight Library
P. 170

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                   ‘Yes, I understand. It is just that in your recent Rolling Stone inter view  you

                talked  a  little  about  your  former  boyfriend,  Dan  Lord,  and  mentioned  how
                difficult  it  was  to  get  the  .  .  .  the  .  .  .  the  restraining  order  against  him,  aer
                he stalked you . . . Didn’t he tr y to break into your house? en tell rep orters
                that he wrote the lyrics for “Beautiful Sky”?’

                   ‘Jesus.’
                   She   hovered    at   the   intersection   of   tears   and   laughter,   and   managed,
                somehow, to give neither.
                   ‘I wrote it when I was still with him. But he  didn’t like  it. He  didn’t like  me

                being   in   this   band.   He   hated   it.   He   hated   my   brother.   He   hated   Ravi.   He
                hated  Ella,  who  was  one  of  the  original  members.  Anyway,  Dan  was  ver y
                jealous.’
                   is  was  so  surreal.  In  one  life,  the  life  he’d  supposedly  wanted,  Dan  was

                so bored in his marriage to Nora he  was having an affair, while  in this  life  he
                was breaking into her house because he couldn’t stand her success.
                   ‘He’s   a   dick,’   said   Nora.   ‘I   don’t   know   the   Portuguese   swear   word   for   a
                terrible person.’

                   ‘Cabrão. It means someone’s a dick.’
                   ‘Or an asshole,’ the younger guy added, stone-faced.
                   ‘Yeah,  well,  he’s  a  cabrão.  He  turned  out  to  be  someone  else  entirely.  It’s
                weird.   e    way   when   your   life   changes   people   act   in   different   ways.   e

                price of fame, I suppose.’
                   ‘And  you  wrote  a  song  called  “Henr y  David  oreau”.  You  don’t  get  many
                songs named aer philosophers . . .’
                   ‘I   know.   Well,   when   I   studied   Philosophy     at   university,   he   was   my

                favourite.  Hence  my  tattoo.  And  it  made  a  marginally  better  song  title  than
                “Immanuel Kant”.’
                   She  was  getting  into  the  swing  of  it  now.  It  wasn’t  too  hard  to  act  a  life
                when it was the one she was destined for.

                   ‘And “Howl”, obviously. Such a powerful song. Number one  in twenty-two
                countries.   Grammy      award-winning       video   with   a   Hollywood    A-list   cast.   I
                suppose you are done talking about it?’
                   ‘I suppose, yes.’

                   Joanna went to get herself another honey cake.
                   Marcelo smiled, gently, as he pressed on. ‘For me  it seemed so primal. e
                song,  I  mean.  Like  you  were  letting  ever ything  out.  And  then  I  discovered
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